Absence
by Layla Reyne
Summary: Another tragic loss leads to the absence of not one but two Team Arrow members.


**Absence**

**By: Layla Reyne**

**Summary: **Another tragic loss leads to the absence of not one but two Team Arrow members.

**A/N:** * Lauches self into another fandom * Finally succumbing to the call of Olicity. One-shot/Lots of future speculation. Enjoy!

_Many thanks to Sandra (dutchtreat) for her beta work and to Chelley, Jen, Mary and Marie for giving this a pre-read. _

**Disclaimer: The characters and other things from Arrow are not mine. All due credit to the rightful holders.**

* * *

We lay her to rest on a stormy, late afternoon in May. Loud claps of thunder drown out the minister's words, as a steady rain pelts the tops of our umbrellas and the casket that's as black as the angry sky above.

Her mother wanted a lighter wood, something delicate, feminine, befitting of her daughter. Her father and I knew better, knew that there was no other choice to make.

_Black_.

Just as the flowers adorning her casket could only be one color.

_Yellow_.

A bright spray of roses, daisies and tulips that slowly vanish from my sight as the casket is lowered into the ground, laying to rest, once and for all, another friend, a fellow warrior, a loved one.

Another loss.

_Just the thought of losing someone that important to me again…_

Those words echo in my head, rattling around the ever growing cavern in my soul. A void that is empty, silent. Lifting my eyes, I scan the crowd gathered around the gravesite.

Thea and Roy to my right, comforting a grieving Sin between them. The Lances huddled together across from me, Mr. Lance clutching his ex-wife to one side and his surviving daughter to the other, their devastated faces streaked with tears. Friends, co-workers and acquaintances scattered about. My mother standing alone, keeping her distance, but worriedly, warily watching my every move. Diggle further back, next to a lone oak tree, standing guard over the woman hidden behind it, her black trench coat and long dark hair whipping out with each gust of wind.

And one notable, glaring absence.

An absence that has stretched for three days. Since the night Sara took a bullet to save _her_ life, returning the favor, only this time with deadly consequences. A bullet fired by the father that abandoned her all those years ago.

She hasn't disappeared for this long since she was in Central City at Barry's bedside. I realized then how much I depended on it, depended on _her_, as my partner. I realize now that I don't just depend on her as a partner on missions but as a partner in keeping me grounded, keeping me sane. After another loss, I'm hanging onto that sanity by a thread, one that frays a little more each hour that passes without her voice.

And my worry for her grows exponentially. As I've learned, she talks a lot but keeps bottled up the things that hurt the most. This – losing a team member, a friend who became the sister she never had, at the hand of her own father – must be the worst kind of hurt. The loss of another someone important that has the potential to destroy her. And me right along with her.

I tried to go to her, but Diggle turned me back every time.

"She doesn't want to see you," he told me. "She needs time," he explained. His voice always holding a hint of warning, his arms folded across his puffed-out chest, the very picture of an overprotective, older brother.

When Lyla called to alert us that Nyssa had been flagged at the airport, I thought for sure I had my opening. But John was one step ahead of me, installing the younger, stronger brother in his place. Roy brought Sin with him, giving me some small comfort that she wasn't grieving alone. Now, though, with Diggle guarding an unhinged, vengeful Nyssa and Roy and Thea dealing with an inconsolable Sin, my path to her is finally clear.

Stepping to the edge of the open grave, I toss the bouquet of yellow roses I've been holding onto the casket below, silently praying that Sara has found the peace that eluded her for so long. Then, I move to Thea, Sin and Roy, curling my hand around the side of my sister's neck and tipping the crown of her head forward, kissing her there. I do the same to Sin, with an added, "You are not alone," hoping this young, lost girl knows that Sara was not her only family.

As I turn to leave, Roy's hand shoots out, his fingers digging painfully into my forearm. He's been training religiously, determined to harness the power of the Mirakuru, but control is understandably out of his reach at a time like this.

His hard yet tired eyes meet mine. "She's –" he starts.

"I don't care," I cut him off, my voice strained with need and leaving no room for argument.

He holds my stare a moment longer before nodding his head. My eyes cut to Diggle, who, by his frustrated expression, is clearly at odds with Roy's acquiescence, but then Nyssa takes off in the opposite direction and he has no choice but to follow.

Rounding the grave, I hug each of the Lances and assure them I will stop by Laurel's apartment later, after I take care of something.

Of someone.

I can only think of a few places where she might be. I start with her apartment since it's closest to the cemetery. When my knocks and shouts go unanswered, my worry and fear ratchet up another notch, and I don't delay in picking the lock to let myself inside. It's empty and yet so full of her that I feel my throat clog and my chest constrict. Neat, tidy, with brightly colored, comfortable looking furniture, a framed poster of Mouton Rothschild Artists Labels over the fireplace, and a huge, corner desk set up with multiple computer monitors.

Her essence is here, everywhere I look, but it's not enough. I still need to know she's safe. I still need to hear her voice.

I check the QC building next, but there's no sign of her in our overly sterile offices or in the always humming IT department. She hides out in here from time to time, the drone of the servers calming her, I suspect.

On my way to the Foundry, I call Central City Hospital where Barry remains unconscious, asking the nurses on his ward who are used to me calling for updates if she's been there. Not in several weeks they tell me.

By the time I get to the Foundry and find it likewise empty, my anxiety for her safety is off the charts. Slade is still out there and he's proven his willingness to use anyone to get to me. Shrugging violently out of my overcoat and suit jacket and yanking loose my tie, I pull out her chair and take a seat in front of her computers, rolling up my dress sleeves, as I wait for the machines to boot up. When they're ready to go, I open the tracking program she uses to pinpoint the location of our cell phones. Scrolling to her number, I double click, and to my surprise it locates her here, at the Foundry. Taking my phone out of my pocket, I call hers, twice, but there's no answering ring down here.

_Down here._

My head tilts back and my eyes drift to the ceiling, to the thumping noise coming from Verdant overhead. Never did I think she'd be there, but her computers rarely lie. Bolting out of the chair and scaling the steps two at a time, I burst through the door to the club, looking first to the bar and feeling a sharp pang at Sara's absence behind it. But hers is not the absence that plagues me most.

I shift my focus to the packed dance floor, skirting around the edge of the after work crowd. It doesn't take long before I spot a familiar blond ponytail among the throng of people. I'm halfway to her when the crowd parts and what I see brings me up short. She's wearing a fitted, crimson dress that hugs her every curve and stops way short of her knees, a pair of black, spiked-heel sandals that make her legs look even longer and, over her shoulders, a black leather, bolero-style jacket.

A jacket Sara gave her.

Suddenly, my view is obstructed by a tall, blond man, who hands her a drink and snakes his other arm around her waist. He pulls her flush against his body, moving them to the music, and dips his head to her ear, whispering something there that makes her laugh out loud.

The thread finally unravels.

"Felicity!"

My bark is so loud, so severe that the people around us stop and stare and the stranger at her side shifts, giving me a clear line of sight to her again. Her spine straightens and her blue eyes widen in startled surprise. I see her mouth form my name but I still don't hear her voice. She takes an alarmed step back, and the other man moves with her.

I'm at her other side in an instant, wrapping a hand around her upper arm and tugging her away from the stranger.

"Excuse me," he exclaims, reaching between us to curl his fingers around my wrist, futilely attempting to remove my hand from her arm. "What do you think you're doing?"

Felicity's glassless face blanches and her gaze darts from my hand on her arm to the other man's face, terror etched across her features. She's afraid for him. She knows that I can break him in a matter of seconds.

"I'm getting _my girl_ out of here," I growl menacingly, leaning into his space and making it clear he's put the moves on the wrong girl.

It's his turn to blanch, stepping back and dropping his hand. "I'm sorry, Mr. Queen," he stutters, recognizing who I am. "I didn't know," he stammers, retreating further with his hands held high, also recognizing the threat in my voice.

"Your girl?!" Felicity snaps, struggling to wrench her arm from my grasp.

"Your words," I retort, the blond stranger completely forgotten as my menacing glare swings to her, the hours of frustration, anxiety and need getting the better of me.

"Downstairs, now," she seethes, meeting my glare head-on, not shying away in the least.

Since I'm sure, by her words and the anger flashing in her eyes, that fight has trumped flight, I let go of her arm. She storms through the crowd to the side door leading down to the lair, banging it so hard that it bounces against the door stop and back at me, taking double the abuse when I hit it just as hard and slam it shut behind us.

My feet barely hit the basement floor before she lays into me from where she stands next to her computers. "You're unbelievable!" she screams, hurling a wireless mouse at my head.

"Me?!" I return, snatching the piece of plastic out of the air and throwing it aside, hearing it shatter on the cement floor. She doesn't wince, doesn't even flinch, as I advance with an accusatory finger pointed directly at her. "You're the one drinking, dancing and laughing with some stranger you picked up at the club, when you know damn well that you have someplace else to be?"

"Where's that, Oliver?" she replies, meeting my every step forward with a step of her own, stopping less than a foot in front of me. "By your side? Pretending to be the dutiful assistant at her boss's girlfriend's funeral? Pretending like I didn't just lose someone too? That you, the Lances, Sin didn't lose her because of me?"

Her voice cracks on the 'me' as the first tear escapes to race down her cheek. My misplaced anger vanishes. She's feeling this loss just as deeply as me, taking it just as hard as I'd feared.

"Felicity – "

"No thank you," she carries on, arms flailing with each affirmation of the hell I've put her through, each landing like a punch to my gut. "I'd rather be at Verdant, pretending to be someone I'm not. Pretending that my life isn't one huge honking nightmare. Pretending that the first time someone's said 'I love you' to me in twenty freaking years was not my best friend as she died in my arms."

The notion that no one besides Sara – no family member, no friend, no loved one – has said those words to her in two decades is so inconceivable that the vigilante in me is compelled to rectify such a terrible injustice immediately.

"I love you," I tell her. No doubt, no hesitation, and when I do, it feels like a giant boulder has been lifted from my chest.

"I love you too, Oliver, but that's beside the point," she replies, pacing in the training area, yanking off her jacket and throwing it to the floor.

I'm suspended in disbelief at the casual ease with which she returns the sentiment, that it was right there in front of me all along, but before I have time to consider my willful blindness, she continues, exposing the depth of her guilt and devastation.

"I wanted to be there today, I wanted to say goodbye to Sara too, but I couldn't do that without exposing you, Roy and Dig, and if do that, you and your families become targets to even more people than you already are, and if anyone else gets hurt because of me, I won't be able to live with myself because I can barely live with myself as it is."

Her pace quickens and the tears come unbidden as she rants, and I know she'll collapse or pass out from lack of oxygen any second if she keeps on going like this.

"Felicity!" I bark again, and like always, she snaps to attention. Reaching out, I grip her elbow firmly and pull her toward me, using my other hand to cup her cheek, my thumb brushing away the tears. "Stop and breathe."

Nodding, eyes locked with mine, she attempts to inhale, it catches, and a gut-wrenching sob breaks free. Another follows and then she breaks, completely. Without delay, I gather her to me, holding her tightly in my arms as wave after wave of grief wracks her body, causing it to buck and shudder, while her fingers curl in my dress shirt and her face stays buried in my chest.

After some time, when she's quieted to hiccoughing sniffles, I lean back slightly and frame her face with both of my hands, directing her eyes to mine.

"Why have you been avoiding me?" I ask, needing to understand why she kept herself shut off from me, from grieving together for the loss of the woman we both loved.

Wincing, she closes her eyes and turns her face into one of my hands, hiding almost. Another tear slips free as she quietly answers, "Because I took her from you."

_So_ Felicity. Of course, at the heart of her grief isn't her own loss but the loss she fears she inflicted on others, on me. Selfless. Something for me to admire, to learn, to love. That's what Sara saw, what she died for, what they ultimately had in common.

"You've got it backwards," I whisper, the fingers of my other hand drifting over her ear and into her hair, gently pulling out her ponytail holder and letting her curls fall free.

"How's that?" she asks, turning her face back to me, her brow creased in confusion.

"She gave me you," I answer simply, and then watch as her brow unfurrows and her eyes widen with comprehension.

We stare at each other a few heavy seconds, eyes searching, breath quickening, before we both lunge at the exact same moment. She shoots up on her toes as I haul her against me and drop my head, our mouths colliding. She gasps, whether in surprise at her own actions or mine I don't know, but I don't care as I push my tongue into her mouth and get my first taste of her. It's everything I need, better than even her voice, and I can't help but groan. She answers with a whimper, her arms winding around my neck, her nails running over my scalp, and what was already an explosive first kiss goes wild. It's needy, hungry, grief-stricken, hopeful – every emotion we've pent up for the past three days, longer even, coursing between us, consuming everything.

By the time my ringing cell phone breaks through the haze, she's sitting atop her computer desk, legs wrapped around my waist, hands wandering under my dress shirt, as mine alternate between her hair, her face and the smooth expanse of her exposed thighs, the skirt of her dress having ridden up to her hips.

Tearing my mouth from hers with a frustrated growl, I dig my cell phone out of my pocket and see three missed calls from Thea. A fourth one comes in while the phone is in my hand.

"I need to answer this."

"Of course," Felicity mumbles, cheeks flaming bright red and eyes downcast, as she lowers her arms and legs and yanks down her skirt.

"Felicity," I say her name softly, using my thumb and forefinger to lift her chin, forcing her eyes to meet mine. Her pupils are huge, dilated with lust, and it takes everything in me not to kiss her again. "Stay here," I tell her, before stepping away to answer my sister's call.

It takes some convincing, but eventually Thea accepts that I'm fine, safe, and on my way to the after memorial at Laurel's apartment. Hanging up, I turn back around to find a Felicity-less computer desk. My shout for her is cut off by the click clack of her heels returning from the bathroom, ponytail in place, glasses on her nose and a contact case in her hand.

"I'm sorry," she starts before I can say a single word. "I shouldn't have. I don't know what got into me," she rambles on, righting the keyboards we shoved aside and shutting down her computers. "I mean, I do, the grief, the stress, you saying 'I love you'. I shouldn't – "

Her words die on my lips as I kiss her quiet, something that's admittedly crossed my mind not a small number of times since I met Felicity Smoak. It's not a fiery kiss like our first one, but it's a promise nonetheless.

"Oliver," she breathes, when I pull away and rest my forehead against hers.

"I love you," I repeat, because it bears repeating. She hasn't heard them nearly enough in her lifetime.

"The timing – "

"Isn't right," I finish her thought, leaning back and holding her face in my hands again.

I know it's too soon, with Sara just dying, Slade threatening, and my mother's allegiances unknown. More than that, I'm not ready. I haven't learned enough of the art of being selfless to deserve someone who so purely is. But still, I need her to understand what's happened here tonight, that I'm not as blind as I was before.

"The timing isn't right _yet_, Felicity. But Sara saved you for a reason. A reason I'm just starting to realize."

"What's that?"

"I can't lose you either," I answer with a smile, pleased when it earns me a small, shy one in return.

I give her cheeks one last sweep, her lips one last brush, before bending down to pick up her jacket.

"Would you mind dropping me off at my apartment on your way to Laurel's?" she asks, taking the jacket from me and shrugging it on.

"Sure," I reply, putting on my suit jacket and overcoat. "After we make another stop."

"Where?" she asks, gathering the rest of her things.

I wait until she's ready to go and then extend a hand to her, interlacing her fingers with mine. "To the cemetery. I'm taking you to say goodbye to your best friend."

Her hand clenches in mine as tears well up in her eyes and her smile wobbles a bit. "Thank you," she whispers in that voice I can't lose, that fills the void, that I never want to be without again.

The voice that Sara saved for me.

**THE END**

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_Thanks so much for reading! Hit review below and let me know what you think. I've got another Olicity piece in the works and the muse loves her review food ;)_


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